"You wanna get through this? Do as I say!" - or, On Being Furiosa

On January 11th 2017, exactly a year and a day after David Bowie returned to his home planet, my father passed away.

He was suffering from a horrid, ugly and painful illness. It lasted too long, hurt too much. It turned him into someone I struggled to recognize. I like to think he's in a better place now, no longer in pain, his mind restored. In a way - and I'm not ashamed to say this - his passing came as a relief. For him and for us.

Just like for the rest of humanity, 2016 was a godawful year for me. So many things - some of them little, some of them not so little - came at me all at once. It felt suffocating. Father's illness, of course, was my family's gravest ordeal, looming over us, paralyzing us from living normally.

The situation culminated in early November - exactly in the middle of BeoKon, a major convention I'm personally responsible for. On the second day of the convention, my father was transferred to the hospice. The doctors said it was a matter of weeks. As expected, I reacted to the news quite badly - a sleepless night and a nervous breakdown. Still, there was work to be done - this was MY convention, with international guests and several thousand visitors. It wasn't like I was in a situation to excuse myself and stay home. Show must go on and all that.

So I gritted my teeth and went on with the job.

The last day of BeoKon was somewhat of a blur to me. I remember how difficult it was to keep myself together, to be collected and act professionally, to make sure things ran smoothly, to talk to the media and pose for pictures, chitchat with visitors, participate in panels and host the cosplay competition. Yet somehow I made it.

The reason I managed to soldier on with my BeoKon duties was the fact that on the last day I was in the skin of Imperator Furiosa.

She's one tough cookie, that one. She's fiercely committed to her mission. She would never ever allow pain to prevent her from performing her tasks, no matter how hard it hurt. Furiosa would not cry. Furiosa would not fall apart. Furiosa would get her shit together and get the job done. I relied on HER strength, her toughness and dedication to make it through the day.

Or, perhaps, she allowed me to find that strength deep within myself in a moment when I needed it the most.

Never before have I been that thankful to a fictional character, or felt so pleased that cosplay was my hobby of choice.

So, here's to you, Furiosa, you badass - shiny and chrome, saving lives and mental health of girls from the post-apocalyptic wasteland to Belgrade, Serbia.

You rock.

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